


Blame It On The Years You Never Lived

by Poetiicdissonance



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Cigarettes, Established Relationship, M/M, Waiting for the bus, but Avatar, it's more like the feel of the 90's, well I say modern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27114514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetiicdissonance/pseuds/Poetiicdissonance
Summary: The bus is always late, and it's far too late in the year for thin sweaters and desperation.
Relationships: Kuei & Zuko (Avatar), Kuei/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Blame It On The Years You Never Lived

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I have a thing! The thing is posted (except it's not that other thing but shhhh, we don't talk about that... those... yeah, those is the right plural...). 
> 
> So enjoy this brief interlude into the idea that hasn't left me alone for ages. And really, makes me wish I drew because this was not envisioned as a fic but a still image but my drawing prowess extends to stick men, if that. 
> 
> Eventually I'll get the long things dealt with, but that's... who knows about that. It got long, and has since ballooned from it's planned, short fun one-shot to a 15,000 word, multi-chapter endeavor. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s late enough in the year that the trees are bare, and in the morning, there’s a layer of snow on the ground. It’s too late and too cold to be out in such a thin sweater, and each gust of wind cuts through the worn green fabric. The stone and wood of the bench is covered in a thin layer of frost that melts under Kuei’s hands, and the fallen leaves crunch underfoot. 

The plastic awning does little to protect them from the cold, but the wind, at least, is kept off more than when there is no covering. Kuei is perched on the back of the bench, feet resting on the seat beside Zuko. It’s not much better than if he were just sitting beside him, but it’s a little bit less fabric to get damp from the melting frost. 

Zuko leans his head against Kuei’s leg, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, and lighting one with a snap of his fingers. He’s less bothered by the cold than Kuei is, kept warm by the flames that course through his veins, but the pack of cigarettes is still half-empty.

“Those things are going to kill you.” Kuei says, and out of habit more than anything, and starts running his fingers through Zuko's hair. They both know the cigarettes are unhealthy, but the scar that covers half of Zuko’s face makes them both think he’ll probably die before the cigarettes have any chance to work. 

“You’re freezing, do you want a puff?” Zuko says instead of responding to the statement, and this too, is familiar. 

Kuei pulls one leg up to rest on top of the armrest, leaning forward and wrapping an arm around it. “No, it’s fine, the bus will be here soon.” Which is closer to true than not. The library is only a few stops away, and then they can spend the day there, outside from the cold. For both of them, going home is the last resort.

Zuko reaches a hand up, twining his fingers through the ones Kuei was using to run through his hair. He rests their joined hands on Kuei’s knee, running his thumb along the side of his palm.

“We can’t keep doing this.” Kuei says, looking out over the street. There’s an old and peeling billboard that’s advocating for some product named after the Avatar, and further than that, he knows, in parts of the city with more money, and more resources, and more recent billboards, there’s ones powered by electricity with ad campaigns plastered across the front with Zuko’s father on them. 

Zuko doesn’t say anything, just takes another drag of the cigarette. They lapse back into silence, and Kuei pushes his glasses backup his nose, and pushes the loosening braid behind his shoulder.

“We could leave. The city’s not the only place in the world.”

Kuei smiles faintly, though it flickers away quickly, and he squeezes Zuko’s hands. 

“Where would we go?” If he’s honest, the idea seems nice, even if he has no idea how it would actually happen. There are expectations for both of them, and this romance, these days- outings, are an indulgence, there’s no way they can be allowed to be permanent, not when there is the constant knowledge that who they are will have to be someone else eventually. The dreams are nice, but they’re that- dreams, unattainable in the way they hav been since they were born.

The street is quiet, with just the occasional sound of leaves when the wind picks up, and they carry down the street.

“Somewhere else,” Zuko says, breaking the silence. “There’s a world out there.” 

Kuei tilts his head, “I know. I’ve read all about it.”

This makes Zuko laugh slightly, and turn his head to catch Kuei’s eyes. “There’s a world out there you can’t read about.

“The bus is late,” Kuei says instead, looking away from Zuko, towards the street. “It’s supposed to come in thirteen minute and fourteen seconds intervals. It’s been 15 minutes.”

Zuko looks back towards the street. “Is it?”

Kuei isn’t certain if it’s an honest question, or one feigning interest, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Some ideas come with strange feelings. The tightness in his chest is something he doesn’t want to examine. If he wasn’t here-- wasn’t this person, he doesn’t know what he’d be. There are expectations after all, it shouldn't just be that easy to suggest running away. It  _ should _ be harder to consider the idea. 

Kuei slips a hand under the hem of his sweater, the warmth from his skin seeping into the fingers. Zuko rolls his head to look at Kuei. “You’re cold.”

“I’m not a firebender.”

Zuko shifts, pulling off his jacket in a quick motion, reaching up to drape it across Kuei’s shoulders, before settling back down in his spot, rejoining their hands. His skin is warmer than Kuei’s, and he didn't notice how nice it felt until the brief moment when Zuko had left. The jacket is warm from Zuko’s body heat, the black denim stopping some of the cold from digging through his green cardigan. 

“You didn't have to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Across the street, a part of the peeling sign falls with the next gust of wind, and part of the lettering across the Avatar’s face falls, tumbling a few feet until it’s stopped by the fire escape running up the apartment beside it. 

“I would have been fine.” Kuei says, shifting the hand back to wrap around his knee, fingers a little less numb from the pressing cold. 

Zuko looks back at him. “Like you said, you’re not a firebender.” The  _ ‘and I am’ _ is left unsaid, but Kuei hears it anyway. Zuko looks back over the road, head tilted back on Kuei’s leg, as he takes another long drag from the cigarette. 

Kuei resumes running one hand through Zuko’s hair, enjoying the almost radiating heat, and makes a humming noise in acknowledgement, not in agreement, but he knows it’s true.

The silence is companionable, and familiar in the same way that he’s grown accustomed to with Zuko. He’s not one for an excess of words, and Kuei has always felt best in the strange dusty silence of the public library, surrounded by the clacking of keys, scratch of pens, and the sounds of books. 

Zuko finishes the cigarette, dropping it and grinding the sole of his shoe into it, leaving a dark mark on the pavement. 

“I’m worried sometimes,” Kuei starts, fingers stilling in Zuko’s hair for just a second before he starts again. “that this can’t last. That you’re going to find someone better, and I’m going to be…” Kuei stopped, taking a deep breath. “Actually, you know what, nevermind.” He says, ignoring the energy under his skin, and the parts of him that want to leave for the damage of overexposure. 

“Who would ever understand me better than you?” Zuko says, standing up, and facing Kuei. He reaches out a hand, tucking a stray bit of hair behind Kuei’s ear. “You’re not a placeholder.” He says, and leans in, kissing Kuei. It tastes like nicotine, but it’s warm, unlike the air, and the bench, and the fear that’s starting to dissolve in Kuei’s throat. 

Zuko pulls away, reaching for Kuei’s hand. “One day, you’re going to be brave enough, and we’ll board a different bus.” He says, and Kuei blinks, brow furrowing until he realizes what he means. Zuko sits back down, and from their little awning, Kuei can see the bus coming their way.

“The bus is late.” Kuei says again, and pulls the coat tighter around his shoulders. 

“It always is.”


End file.
